


Nothin' Stopping Me

by Laramie



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A great big What If: What if Thomas's love life was better?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothin' Stopping Me

**Author's Note:**

> Some porn for your Friday evening, or whatever time it is when you read this. The idea was a sort of collab between BlueTilo and I, and the words are all mine, though Blue beta'd for me too (thanks, friend!).

It was funny to think that, but for a little quirk of fate, Thomas would have been a footman. When his father had taken him to Downton Abbey, aged 14, it had in fact been with the intention of getting him employed as a footman. But then, while they were standing in the servants' hall, the head gardener had walked past  on his way to the kitchen with a basket of assorted vegetables. He had been in need of a junior gardener at the time.

"He looks like a good, strong lad," Mr Tate, the head gardener in question, had said. "Can't I take him for the garden, Mr Carson?"

Thomas had thought it sounded as though he would be turned into compost, but the butler agreed for Mr Tate to take Thomas on. Thomas's father had left and Mr Tate had shown Thomas the different areas of the garden and Thomas hadn't cried until he was in his new bed, in the room he would share with the other two junior gardeners.

Thomas had been a surly boy, not much given to spending vast amounts of time with other people and too prickly and afraid to enjoy it when he did. Luckily, as a gardener, nobody really noticed. He spent much of his time silently digging, either alone or with the other two boys, or pulling weeds out of the ground, or setting traps for rats, or fetching and carrying things for those higher up the career ladder. They didn't require him to speak, or to make nice with the family, and even his nastier remarks were often met with gales of laughter from the other workers when they stopped for lunch. It didn't matter that he spent the entire first month with an evil look on his face, because he was only scowling at the ground, after all, and the soil couldn't mind.

At first, Thomas was not nearly as strong as the other gardeners, unaccustomed as he was to regular, hard physical labour. The assistant gardener would poke fun at him during tea breaks and call him a nancy behind the others' backs and then, when they had all gone home, he would take Thomas to the potting shed and fuck him. He usually made sure Thomas got off, but wouldn't reverse their roles. It wasn't until long years later that Thomas understood why: the man who took the "woman's role" was far more stigmatised than the other.

Thomas had never understood why women were considered lesser than men, though. Women were feeble? Take a look at his mother in a towering rage. Women were unintelligent? Take a look at his little sister as she studied to become a nurse (even though what she really wanted was to become a doctor). Women were weak? Take a look at his older sister thumping Sammy Roberts for calling Thomas names. This attitude served Thomas well; despite his camaraderie with the other garden staff, perhaps his closest friend was a lady's maid called Sarah O'Brien.

Over the years, Thomas learned a lot as a junior gardener at Downton Abbey. By the time he was thirty-one, he had enough experience and knowledge to earn the position of head gardener at the Hexham estate. And here his love life took a definite turn for the better.

-

The knock on Thomas's door came at around seven in the evening, but even so, Thomas had not long got home to the little cottage that came with his job of head gardener. He would have been out longer, but there wasn't much he could do once the sun had set. The end of October meant a race to dig enough manure into the vegetable beds, so that they would be fertile and ready come spring to have crops planted into them.

Thomas stood up and groaned, rotating his sore shoulders with a grimace. Even as he walked to the front door, he was thinking about the jobs to be done the following day: he'd get the lads weeding in the orangery first thing, before it got too hot. It would be quicker to hoe it, but two of the juniors were new and Thomas didn't quite trust them with a sharp edge around the valuable plants in there just yet. The weeding wasn't just for aesthetic purposes; some of the exotic plants were exceptionally bad at competing with other greenery.

Thomas opened the door to see Lord Hexham. He smiled as he stepped back to let his guest in. "Lord Hexham," he said as Peter passed him. "I'm afraid the staff are all out," he teased, "so I can't offer much in the way of refreshment."

"Your dear face is refreshing enough," Peter replied, with a fond pat to Thomas's cheek as he went through to the living room.

It was soppy, but Thomas rather liked it. He followed Peter and flopped back onto the sofa next to him with a relieved sigh. Peter leaned over, twisting his body to touch little kisses against Thomas's mouth.

"Long day?" Peter asked between kisses.

"Very." Thomas sank into sensation; Peter's lips caressing his, his hand holding Thomas's waist. Peter's attentions moved to Thomas's neck, kissing and licking and, low enough to be covered by Thomas's collar, sucking hard enough to leave a love bite. Thomas loved these marks; loved to look in the mirror while he was shaving or getting ready for bed and see the proof of their pleasure clinging to his body.

Peter's hand slid from Thomas's side to his stomach and began to travel lower.

"Peter…" Thomas protested weakly, holding him at bay by cupping his cheek and gently guiding his head up.

There was a touch of anxiety in Peter's expression as he looked back at Thomas.

"I spent the day moving pig shit," Thomas said frankly, too tired to say it delicately. "I stink and I'm not really in the mood."

"You are a bit grimy," Peter agreed with a smile. "Go have a bath and scrub up and then I can lick you all over."

"Now that sounds like an excellent idea." As he stood, Thomas let his hand slide up Peter's cheek to ruffle his soft blond hair. "Give me half an hour."

After grabbing a towel and a change of clothes, Thomas went into the bathroom and ran himself a bath. Once he had enough steaming water, he turned off the taps and relaxed contentedly into the warmth. It was lovely on his sore muscles.

He had been there barely five minutes when the bathroom door swung open. Thomas yelped in surprise.

"Sorry," Peter said.

Thomas huffed and lay back in the bath, having jerked into a sitting position when Peter barged in. "Didn't know it was you, did I?"

"Do you mind?" Peter asked from the doorway.

Thomas smiled. "Not at all. It's not like you haven't seen me naked before. But I'm not clean yet."

Peter went to sit on the closed lid of the toilet while Thomas picked up the soap at last and began to clean himself up, washing away the stink and sweat that had accumulated over the course of the day. Peter asked him how the new juniors were getting on, obviously remembering Thomas mentioning it a few days previously, and they chatted briefly about their days while Thomas bathed.

When Thomas leaned back against the bath again, Peter stood, going over to the bathtub and kneeling down. He gave Thomas a wicked smile - or as wicked as Peter ever got, which wasn't very. "How many times I've got on my knees for you," he murmured. The seductive effect was only slightly hampered by the way his cheeks began to go pink.

Chest pressed against the side of the tub, Peter dangled one arm into the water between Thomas's knees, trailing his fingers absentmindedly in the warmth. Thomas closed his eyes, feeling the water move as Peter began to make eddies under the surface, little disruptions in the water which travelled between Thomas's thighs.

In response to the gentle stimulation on his cock, Thomas felt himself start to swell very slightly.

"Mmm…" he hummed, his eyes still shut and his face turned up towards the ceiling. The waves grew in intensity for a moment, then Peter's fingers actually brushed against the head of his cock. It made Thomas start, since he hadn't seen it coming, but then his lips curved into a smile. He hoped Peter would take it as the permission-request-approval it was.

Peter did. His hand continued swirling around in the water, sometimes touching Thomas directly, sometimes splashing warm water onto his belly in a wave. He progressed to running his fingers up Thomas's thigh, then stroking him slowly until Thomas was fully hard.

When Peter's hand was withdrawn from the water with a splash, Thomas looked up to see what was happening. Peter was pushing on the edge of the tub to help him stand; Thomas was about to protest when he saw that Peter had begun unbuttoning his shirt. Lips still parted, Thomas watched him undressing hurriedly, waiting eagerly while Peter's soft skin was exposed. Peter dropped his clothes on Thomas's bathroom floor. Once he was naked, he climbed over the side of the bath, clearly displaying that he was already pretty aroused himself. He straddled Thomas's lap. It was a bit of a squash; there was barely room for both of them, but Thomas didn't mind. He liked to feel Peter's knees pressed against his thighs.

Thomas used a hand at the back of Peter's neck to pull him into a kiss. With the other, he took hold of Peter's cock, but only managed to stroke him a couple of times before Peter was guiding his hand further back.

"Could - could you -" Peter murmured against his lips. He still found it difficult to ask for what he wanted, sometimes.

"You want me to top?" Thomas asked gently. He had taken both positions with Peter, amid the other acts they did to make each other feel good - often, Thomas just liked to lie facing Peter, which allowed them to kiss while they brought each other off with their hands.

"Yes," Peter said, sounding relieved. "Is that alright?"

Thomas smiled and kissed him again, closing his eyes and savouring the press of mouths. "Of course." He rubbed the edge of Peter's arsehole with a fingertip. "We're going to need the jelly, though."

Peter let out a small, impatient sigh, even as he bucked forwards in response to Thomas's fingers. He kissed the side of Thomas's neck, then the notch in his collarbone, making heat bloom everywhere his lips touched. Then he licked one long stripe from there, across Thomas's throat and under his jaw, earning a small moan from Thomas. "Fine." Peter got out of the bath again, cocking a leg over the side and dripping all over the tiles as he crossed to the cupboard above the sink. He rummaged around and returned with the jar of petroleum jelly.

"Is this even going to work?" Thomas asked sceptically when Peter made to get back into the bath. "With the water and…" He gestured at the jar. "And it's pretty cramped in here."

"Get _out_ , then," Peter urged him, tugging on his upper arm.

Thomas couldn't help but smile at Peter's urgency. He let himself be persuaded out of the warmth, and before he could pick up his towel to dry himself off, Peter was kissing him again. And then, well - how could he have torn himself away? So it was that as Peter's hand crept to Thomas's waist again, droplets of water trailed down his skin. Both sensations made him shiver for different reasons.

Peter pulled their naked bodies flush together, chest to knee, and Thomas held Peter's hips and rocked against him lazily. On the whole, Thomas enjoyed his work in the garden, but the best part was coming back to _this_. And not just the sex, but Peter in general - his smile, his face, his conversation. Thomas curled his fingers against Peter's pale arse. He stroked his palms over the soft skin more firmly before giving one cheek a squeeze, which caused Peter to arch up into him very satisfyingly. Thomas had known it would; he had got to know Peter's body pretty well since they had started all this. He knew what Peter liked. He knew how to make him shiver. He knew how to drag Peter to orgasm in mere _minutes_ if he wanted to - and how to hold him on the edge for an hour.

Just as amazing was the fact that Peter knew all the same things about him, and delighted in proving it at every opportunity.

Peter pressed the jar of petroleum jelly into Thomas's hand. He spun around, keeping hold of Thomas's wrist so that Thomas was pulled up against his back. "Can we do it this way?" Peter whispered.

"You don't want to lie down?" With little conscious thought, Thomas ran his hand over Peter's abdomen and lower, keeping his hand near to Peter's body so that he brushed only the base of his cock. His fingertips tingled where they made contact.

"I'm not fucking on the floor," Peter replied, perhaps aiming to sound firm. His voice wavered too much to be convincing.

Soothingly, Thomas rubbed Peter's hipbone. "Whatever you want," he agreed - would have agreed to anything with his cock held between Peter's thighs as it was. He pushed between them and moaned quietly at the sensation, before forcing himself to be still. "Go lean against the sink then," he said breathlessly.

It wasn't exactly the sexiest thing he had ever said, but it didn't seem to matter; Peter went without hesitation, bracing his arms on the side of the sink. For the sweetest moment, Thomas remained where he was, appreciating the sight of a naked Peter: the long lines of him; the softness under his skin from not having a physical job; the swell of his arse and the shoulder blades shifting as if underwater as Peter fidgeted.

But then he couldn't hold back the urge to _touch_. The step-and-a-half between them melted away and then Thomas was stroking the bones he had just been admiring. His hand swept aimlessly over Peter's back, mapping him out for the tenth - or dozenth - or twentieth time. He hadn't been keeping count.

Peter loved being touched in the small of his back, so Thomas rubbed his knuckles just above Peter's tailbone, where the bone was very close to his skin. A contented sigh was his reward, betraying how much Peter liked the caress. Thomas swallowed, briefly overwhelmed by the thought that he knew _exactly_ how to make another person feel incredible.

"Thomas…" Peter murmured.

"I'm gettin' there," Thomas reassured him, and he moved his hand, letting one finger remain on Peter's body and trailing it down to the cleft of his arse. He withdrew to unscrew the lid of the jelly. After coating his fingers liberally, Thomas put the jar on the side of the sink, then rubbed the base of Peter's spine with his thumb and pressed against his rim with his forefinger. "Deep breaths," he reminded Peter.

"I know." The amused smile was obvious in Peter's voice. They'd done this before, but Peter had never been with a man before the two of them had got together and sometimes Thomas couldn't quell the need to take care of him, especially when they were doing something like this. Peter's torso expanded as he breathed in.

Thomas slipped his forefinger in to the first joint, pushing in and out a couple of times but going no deeper until Peter said in a strained voice: "More."

Pushing in to the second joint and thrusting it slowly, Thomas began to curl his finger to stimulate the sensitive spot inside. At the same time, he moved his body in closer. He wrapped his free arm around Peter's waist, standing at an angle to leave him access to Peter's arse. Shallow breaths filled his ears. Peter didn't tend to moan, but Thomas could read his pleasure or approval in the music of his breathing - the sharp gasps or ecstatic sighs.

Thomas tipped his head and began to lavish attention on the back of Peter's neck. He kissed and licked his way all around it, gradually adding a second finger to Peter's arse. The skin Thomas was kissing had got warmer in response to Peter's arousal. When Thomas looked for the heat he could feel under his lips, he saw that Peter's neck and cheeks were flushed red; his mouth was open and his eyes were closed. He swayed in time with Thomas's fingers, which meant his body brushed repeatedly against Thomas's cock. His grip on the edge of the sink was tight enough to turn his fingertips white.

"Alright?" Thomas asked, his tone hushed and husky at the sight of what he could do for Peter. He was so hard he could feel his cock throbbing.

" _Mm_ mm…" It was more a moan than an answer. "Please, I want _you_ ," Peter begged.

"Nearly there…" Thomas's slicked ring finger joined the others inside Peter, while his other hand rubbed Peter's round stomach, silently asking for patience.

Peter drew in a long, shaky breath as Thomas's three fingers pressed inside him. Thomas curled his fingers with every thrust, making it as pleasurable for Peter as he could. Goosebumps formed on Thomas's arms as he remembered explaining that particular manoeuvre to Peter the first time that Peter had taken _him_. They had both been so nervous.

"You feel ready?"

"Definitely," Peter replied. He shivered as Thomas removed his fingers from his body, before taking the jelly from the sink and turning around. "Let me?"

"Go ahead," Thomas smirked. He watched Peter take a dollop of jelly, put the jar back on the sink and spread the slickness over his palm. He felt the smile waver into something deeper as Peter took hold of his cock and began to stroke him. It was a simple touch, an uncomplicated back-and-forth - Peter didn't use any of the tricks he employed during a hand job. It was a good thing he didn't, because Thomas was far too aroused to have lasted if he had.

They shared a brief but intense kiss which left Thomas's head spinning, and then Peter turned around again and resumed his hold on the sink. Thomas squared up behind him, putting one hand on his shoulder, and began to push inside.

"Slowly -" Peter gasped.

"I will -" Thomas promised, pausing as the head of his cock entered Peter's body.

Peter breathed deeply for a moment. "Alright. Keep going."

Thomas wrapped both arms firmly around Peter's chest as he slid in deeper, his breathing shallow at the tight, hot sensation of Peter surrounding him. Once he felt Peter's arse flush against him, Thomas paused again. It was almost unbearably erotic, with him inside Peter, and Peter inside the close circle of his arms.

Peter began to move. He pulled away, and Thomas slipped almost out of him, and then Thomas shuddered as he pressed back again. As they settled into a rhythm, Thomas pressed his mouth against the nape of Peter's neck, eyes closed, kissing blindly.

"You feel so good," he moaned against Peter's skin, and licked the bump of the first vertebra at the top of his back.

Peter said nothing; he only moved, and panted, and held onto the sink as though it was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Ah -" Thomas opened his eyes again, and wished he had a mirror above his sink so that he could see Peter's face.

"Can I touch myself?" Peter asked.

With a tremendous effort of will, Thomas stilled his hips. It took a couple of seconds, but then Peter caught on and stopped too.

"What if I say no?"

"Then I'll do what you say," Peter replied, his head tipping back.

Thomas squeezed him tighter, fighting not to come. They had never brought power play into their relationship - it didn't interest either one of them - but there was something deeply compelling about Peter giving Thomas complete control over his pleasure. He moved his arm, palming Peter's chest and left nipple with his opposite hand. He shifted his bare feet on the cold tile floor. "'Course you can touch yourself," he managed to say in a rough voice, and kissed the side of Peter's neck.

Looking over Peter's shoulder, Thomas was unable to quite _see_ Peter touching his cock, but he saw him releasing his grip on the sink with his right hand and saw his arm moving hurriedly towards his body. He smirked at the thought of making Peter desperate.

Thomas began to thrust again, building back to feeling the tightness in his stomach which had begun before they had hesitated. With Peter's quickened breathing in his ears, it didn't take long to reach that point. Thomas's face felt hot, and his fingertips and toes curiously distant, as though they belonged to somebody else. It was a miracle his knees hadn't given way. He curled his fingers in against Peter's ribs, wanting him still, impossibly, closer.

"I'm going to - I'm -"

"Yes, do," Thomas whispered back.

The final gasps Thomas heard Peter give then were ones he knew well, ones which always signified that Peter was coming. The knowledge of what Peter was doing, what his face would look like, tipped Thomas over the edge too. He came inside Peter's body with a low moan which he muffled in the side of Peter's neck.

They stood catching their breath. When Thomas slipped out of Peter, Peter turned in his arms and laid his head on Thomas's chest, embracing Thomas in return. With their naked bodies pressed together, Thomas could feel that Peter was sweaty and shivering a little in the chill of the bathroom.

"I'll need another bath now," Thomas admonished playfully.

"Only if I can go first," Peter countered, sounding sleepy.

Hooking his chin on Peter's shoulder, Thomas caught sight of something. "Did you come in the sink?"

"Erm... yes," Peter said, a bit sheepishly.

Thomas smiled and kissed the side of Peter's head. "How tidy you are," he teased fondly. "I'll have to keep hold of you."

 


End file.
